Solo Violin Sonatas

Solo Violin Sonatas: Some Observations upon Their past and upon Their Performance
Author(s): Marion M. Scott

Source: Music & Letters, Vol. 10, No. 1 (Jan., 1929), pp. 46-57
Published by: Oxford University Press
Stable URL: https://www.jstor.org/stable/726731
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SOLO VIOLIN SONATAS
SOME OBSERVATIONS UPON THEIR PAST AND UPON THEIR
PERFORMANCE
THAT SO small a thing as the violin should have established so great

an ascendancy is one of the romances of musical history. Never was
the ascendancy greater, the romance stronger than during those two
centuries between the violin's emergence on the world of music about
1550 and the rise, a couple of hundred years later, of the
pianoforte into a first-class power. The youth of the violin
synchronised with a wonderful epoch. It was that time when (as
Besant wrote of the Renaissance) ' every sailor brought home the
record of a voyage to unknown seas and to unknown shores....
when the world had become suddenly conscious of a vast, an incon-
ceivable widening, the results of which could not yet be foretold,' and
when ' scholars and poets, merchants and sailors, rovers and
adventurers, all alike were moved by the passion and ecstasy of the
time.' The violin, in its turn, became an explorer upon the seas
of music. It inspired men to voyage with it from the terra firma of
the old music (with its words and contrapuntal landmarks) to the new
uncharted regions of pure instrumental music. A small vessel,
' I1 Violino,' and seemingly frail to undertake such a journey, but
well manned by the best genius of Italy. A seaworthy ship, shaped
to strength with scientific perfection. Its sails, shining in the dawn
and singing in the wind, were the dreams of musicians.
This early perfection of the violin was one secret of its supremacy.
The other factors in its romance gathered round it with the composer-
violinists, who developed side by side with their own art of violin
playing, the architectural technique of pure instrumental composition.
It was as if, for once, the time, the place, and the loved one were all
together. No real estimate of solo violin sonatas of the seventeenth
and eighteenth centuries can be made which does not take into account
the threefold elements behind the music.
These are: (1) The achievement of the art of violin making; (2)
the achievement of the art of violin playing; (3) the achievement of
the art of abstract musical form on a large scale.
1. The Violin.-' The great Italian makers . . . put into the hands
of performers the most ideally perfect instrument for expression that
human ingenuity seems capable of devising.
SOLO VIOLIN SONATAS 47
'An instrument which is almost sacred thr

exquisite expression.'-(P.)
2. The Violinists.-' There is nothing in which the power of art is
shown so much as in playing on the fiddle. In all other things we can
do something at first; any man will forge a bar of iron if you give him
a hammer; not so well as a smith, but tolerably; and make a box,
though a clumsy one; but give him a fiddle and a fiddle-stick, and he
can do nothing.'-(J.)
3. The Music.-' The domain of the sonata was for a long while
almost monopolised by violinists and writers for the violin.'
' The history of the sonata is the history of an attempt to cope with
one of the most singular problems ever presented to the mind of man,
and its solution is one of the most successful achievements of his
artistic instincts.'
' In art, each step that is gained opens a fresh vista; but often, till
the new position is mastered, what lies beyond is completely hidden
and undreamed of. In fact, each step is not so much a conquest of
new land, as the creation of a new mental or emotional position....
The achievements of art are the unravellings of hidden possibilities of
abstract law.'-(P.)
Lest these quotations be suspected as bits of special pleading, it
may be well to explain they were not even written by violinists. One
author was a keen athlete in youth, a vigorous administrator in age:
the other a man whose word was law in the literature of his day and
whose character has impressed posterity as deeply as his own
generation. Both were typically English in their common sense.
Their names, hitherto concealed under the initials (P.) and (J.), were
Charles Hubert Hastings Parry and Samuel Johnson.
The violins of which Parry wrote in such glowing terms are still in
existence; not replicas, but the very instruments that came from
the hands of the great Italians. Da Salo and Maggini, shadowy
and sad, the Amatis with their Renaissance sense of beauty, Stradi-
varius, the sane and supreme artist (a Sebastian Bach among fiddle
makers), Giuseppi Guarnerius (with something in his genius which
makes his violins almost uncanny), and many another. These artist-
craftsmen put their instruments into the hands of the great Italian
violinists. They, in their turn, wrote music which was coloured by
the character of the instruments they used. Even to this day the
partnership is perceptible. No instruments suit the old violin music
so well as the old Italian violins, and a sensitive violinist may learn
much by playing on them. These violins were the first factors in the
48 MUSIC AND LETTERS
evolution of the solo sonatas. Who know

drawn bow across the very instruments on which we play their works
to-day. Sometimes it is almost as if the instruments could tell us.
If they could, what an epic of art! Beginning from that first mention
of ' II Violino ' (little violin) in Philibert Jambe-de-Fer's Epitome
Musical of 1556, and groping through the works of Gabrieli (who first
discerned instrumental from vocal style) to Monteverde and the other
composers who employed the violin in concerted music before the first
glimmerings of its independence. The finest solo instrument in the
world began as a support or substitute for the voice; presently it was
promoted to an orchestral position, and lastly emerged as a solo
instrument. The earliest record of its emancipation is in the work of
Biagio Marini about 1620,-he who first introduced the idea of
ornament in violin music by using the shake. A few years later
violinists arrived at the idea of producing gradations of tone, and by
1627 technique had progressed so fast that Carlo Farina-who enjoys
the queer honour of founding violin virtuosity-published a collection
of violin pieces which are landmarks in the history of violin technique
and the solo sonata. He also made a remarkable attempt at tone
painting on the violin, with disarmingly simple subjects-a soldier's
fife, the braying of an ass; like Leopold Mozart a century later, he
evidently had a cynical care for ' the long ears.' It was possible
then to astonish easily. Heron Allen quotes Gallay to the effect that
'the production of a note higher than the upper B was looked upon
as something rash, and only to be attempted by the best performers.
To such a pitch was this carried that in violin solos, where it was
known the high C occurred, the audience would murmur, as the
crucial point approached " Gare l'ut! " (mind the C), and if the feat
was achieved safely, a whirlwind of applause greeted the temerarious-
player, whilst in case of failure, a storm of hisses rewarded his rash
efforts.'
It was about this time that the old name of Canzona fell out of
fashion and the violin sonatas-the ' sound pieces '-beginning to be
touched by genius, assumed their typical form. They entered with
Bassani (1657-1716), the Vitalis (1644-1700) and Cazzati (c. 1620-
1677). They ended to all intents with Handel and John Sebastian
Bach, though Sammartini continued them in a quiet, derivative sort of
way. But neither Bassani nor Bach provided the most representative
examples. Bassani because he still felt the restraint of the past; Bach,
because he pushed far ahead into the future. Corelli (1653-1713) was
the man who first ' drew together the best and eliminated the irre-
levant elements of all that preceded him.' Contemporary or junior to
him in Italy were Vivaldi, Veracini, Locatelli, Tartini, Nardini,
Geminiani, Porpora, and several others, forming a galaxy of genius.

In Germany were Walther, Biber (a forerunner of Leopold Mozart at
Salzburg), and Bach quick to learn all that Vivaldi's compositions could
teach him. Intercourse across the Alpine passes was easy between Italy
and Germany, and Italian enterprise soon carried Italian music north-
ward. France, on the other hand, proud of its own rather frivolous
stvle of violin playing, was slower to accept new ideas. Ultimately
there too, Italian influence, like sunshine, warmed violinists and violin
music into vitality. Baptiste Anet and Jean Marie Leclair were
among their best known mnen.
In England, far from Italy, violinists were rather Obsessed with
French models. Only Henry Purcell, the composer, high in genius,
saw across the Alps, and understood what the Italians were doing.
His opinion of them, and of the French School was expressed thus in
the preface to his own Sonnatas of III Parts. He said he had ' faitlh-
fully endeavour'd a just imitation of the most fam'd Italian Masters;
principally to bring the seriousness and gravity of that sort of Music
into vogue, and reputation among our Country-men, whose humour,
'tis time now, should begin to loath the levity and balladry of our
neighbours.'
Following on Purcell came Handel, the Saxon-Italian character of
whose music has been obscured by the English influences of his
domicile. Francesco Geminiani too settled in England, bringing with
him the direct Corellian tradition. England itself produced somie
second-rank men with a happy turn for sonata writing. Croft, Eccles,
Babell, Gibbs, and Collett are among them.
These then were some of the men who during the century from
1650 to the birth of Mozart were concerned with the writing of solo
violin sonatas.
During this period the solo sonatas, in common with sonatas of
three, or more parts, conformed to one or other of two main types
of design, viz., the Sonata da Chiesa and the Sonata da Camera. As
the names suggest, the types originated in a feeling for what was
fittest in church or room. The Sonata da Chiesa represented a group-
ing of serious weighty movements, and usually contained a fugue or
contrapuntal movement of some sort. In this way the old canzona
continued its existence. The Sonata da Camera, on the other hand,
was a group of frankly secular movements, most of which derived from
dance measures. Within these two broad types of design composers
found plenty of liberty. Few things are more interesting than
the, way in which they drew into their music for the violin the
essentials of everything which struck them as good in music elsewhere.
The singer's recitative and air in opera, the lutenist's and harpsichord
player's ornaments, the sicilianos of folk-song, the pastoral tunes of
the Pifferari-all are there, and much else besides. In Tartini, fore-
runner of Beethoven and Liszi, we even find ' the poetic idea.' It
was his habit to choose some phrase from Petrarch as the inspiration
for a work, and to keep it mirrored in his thoughts throughout. He
would inscribe the phrase in cipher on the composition. It is said that
to this day, the cipher notes are visible on the manuscripts, but their
key, given only to intimate friends, is lost. Tradition has it that one
sonata is framed on the words ' Volge il riso in pianto o miei pupille'
(Turn laughter into tears, 0 my eyes); that another is inscribed
' Ombra Sacra' (Sacred Shade), and that a famous one in G minor
depiets Dido abandoned by Aeneas. The most famous is the ' Trillo
del Diavolo,' of which the legend is too well known to need telling.
The system of ' poetic idea' employed by Tartini is nearly allied
to a system of thematic metamorphosis which can be traced in many
solo sonatas of the time. This perhaps originated in an effort to give
stability and coherence to early instrumental form, but obviously it
is also susceptible of poetic interpretation. The original ' motive ' as
a rule is quite simple, maybe a descending scale, a short group of
notes, or an arpeggio. In the various disguises of rhythm suitable to
the tempi of the different movements it appears at the beginning of
each, and quietly pervades the whole work. It undergoes little
development according to our ideas of the process, and frequently
seems to lose meaning in the aimlessness of its permutations. But
there is no doubt the plan is intentional (it happens too often for
accident), and it serves to keep the same colour of thought through
the different situations of adagio, allegro, vivace, etc.
The following examples will give some idea of it. The first are
taken from Sonata No. 1 of Corelli's ' Opera Quinta.' They are the
opening bars of the second and fifth movements:
IUSDNr(onSot SoVia; $on&a
FAC
The next examples come from Sonata No. 2 in Tartini's ' Opera
Prima,' and are the beginnings of the three movements. Not that the
, r. __
bass figure in the adagio becomes the solo v
allegros.
- ag o AR - -- 1_
I_~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ _
Exs AUak,o a" M
The final examples are from a Sonata in D minor by Henry Eccl

and represent the first, third, and fourth movements.
Exw6. Alti
EX.
EX8. ANlfo
Needless to say, this primitive idee fixe (played with by the com-
posers as a child plays with plastocene), requires very careful handling
from performers. To give it sufficient importance and yet avoid
monotony is a kittle matter. To rightly set forth the structural pro-
portions of movements of all types in these sonatas is not simple.
In some ways it is more difficult than in the true sonata form of the
Vielnnese period. There one may work from a standard model to the
particular example. Here, in the solo sonatas, each structure is still
experimental. Binary form was gradually emerging, and with it the
poising of key against key, the statement, progress, contrast, return;
and the senses of expectation and completion. But so little do modern

landmarks apply here that the majority of movements of that time
which exhibit what is now known as ' First movement form ' occur
as last movements. (See Locatelli's Sonata in G minor or Veracini's
in E minor.)
Thus an intelligent knowledge of musical form of all kinds is indis-
pensable for the performance of these old solo sonatas. Even the
peculiarities of the dance measures must be remembered, such as the
heavy second beat of the Sarabande, or the differences between the
Italian and French forms of the Courante.
It may not be amiss at this point to make a little digression upon
the differences between solo violin sonatas and sonatas for violin alone.
The terms are not synonymous. A ' solo violin sonata,' in current
terminology, is one by reason of its character, not by numerical
isolation. In it the violin is the foremost figure, the music for it
written in true solo style, supported by a firm bass and supplemented
by a harmonic accompaniment. This bass was meant to be played on
a 'cello, harpsichord or both, figures being added to indicate harmonies
from which the harpsichordist extemporised a part. The 'cello was not
expected to extemporise, however. Its duty always was to play the
bass.
The sonata for violin alone, on the other hand, is without any
accompaniment. It is a peculiar type, for the deficiency of low notes
in the violin compass and other idiosyncrasies force up the centre of
gravity, and the form becomes a problem of its own in sesthetics. An
investigation of the problem is not germane to the principal subject
of this article, but reference must at-least be made to the astounding
works for violin alone written by Bach. They are in a class by themr-
selves. No one before or since has achieved anything approaching
them. Admittedly, the literature of that form is small, but many
more specimens exist than are in use to-day. A proportionate dis-
parity occurs over the solo sonatas. A mass of music in this form
survives: violinists avail themselves comparatively little of it. Only
the few players know many works; the many know but few. Doubtless
they would deny the charge with energy, but a regular attendance at
London violin recitals is sufficient to prove its truth. The same
samples bv Corelli, Tartini, and Eccles appear again and again with
the effect of a stage army. Take the case of Tartini. He is known
to have published forty-eight sonatas, and (on the authority of
D'Annunzio and Malipiero) much more of his work remains unpub-
lished. Two, yes, two of Tartini's solo sonatas are in current use,
' II Trillo del Diavolo ' and the G minor known as ' Didone Abban-
donata.' One suspects even these might not figure so often if
violinists did not want something with which to play in their fingers!
As a counterblast, it may be urged that many short pieces of the

seventeenth and eighteenth centuries are in common use. This is
quite true, and all to the good. But they have usually been extracted
by their arrangers from the solo sonatas. Further, it may be repre-
sented that a number of old solo sonatas have been republished at
different times under different editors. This also is true, but violinists
do not seem sufficiently aware of them. Perhaps in some instances
this is as well-the ' realisations ' of the figured basses perpetrated
in the nineteenth century are enough to make the real composers
weep, while other well-meant arrangements are stodgy beyond
boredom. To have known a work only in such an arrangement and
then to get it in an original edition (with the shapely line of the fiddle
part and the firm clean progress of the figured bass) is to have a veil
rent between oneself and the past. The things which for long have
troubled one with discomfort are the modern accretions or omissions.
The following examples show this in a nutshell. They are taken from
the G minor and F major sonatas by Tartini which form part of the
set published as ' Opera Prima ' at Amsterdam in 1734. Here is the
original form of the second movement:
tx.q~~~~~~4
Here is the version which left the hands of an arranger. Note the
weakening of the bass:
54 MUSIO AND LETTERS
Example 11 shows what a nineteenth century violinist made of the

movement in F major of which the original has already been quoted
in Example 3:
It is ' lugubre ' indeed! One does not know whether to) be more
angry at the stupidity of that E fiat in the first bar (contradicting at
the outset the key which Tartini is striving to establish in our
thoughts), or at the unwarranted Barnby ' Sweet and low ' harmony
introduced on the last quaver of the second bar.
The ' realisation ' of these accompaniments from the figured bass
is an absolutely vital matter if the solo sonatas are to be known in
their full charm. Playing ofrom figured bass is almost a lost art among
pianists. When a musician can be found to do it well for a violinist,
the sense of freedom and w lan imparted to the performance is
perfectly entrancing. The subject is too big to be dealt with here,
but at least some idea of what the accompaniments to these solo
sonatas were in old days may be gathered from the following
directions. They are taken from Geminiani's Rules for playing in a
True Taste, believed to have been published about 1749.
With Respect to the Thorough Bass on the Harpsichord it has

been my particular Aim to observe a great variety of Harmony
and Movements, which two things are most agreeable to the
Nature of that instrument; and have given the following short
Rules, for the Use of those who desire to accompany in a good
Taste. They must be sure to place the Chords between both
Hands, in such a Manner as to produce (by passing from one
Chord to another) at once both an agreeable Harmony and Melody.
Sometimes playing many Chords, and at other times few, for our
Delight arises from the Variety. Whenever the Upper Part stops,
and the Bass continues, He who accompanies must make some
aelodious Variation on the same Harmony, in order to awaken the
Imagination of the Performer, whether he Sings or Plays, and at
the same Time to give Pleasure to the Hearer. It is necessary
to observe that when double Notes are found in the Bass, the
upper Notes are for the Violoncello, and the under Notes for the
Harpsichord. In accompanying grave Movements, he should
make use of the Acciachature, for these rightly placed, have a
wonderful Effect; and now and then should touch the several
Notes of the Chord lightly one after another, to keep the Harmony
alive. In swift Movements the Left Hand must strike the plain
Notes of the Bass, and the Right of the Chords, in such a Manner
as not to cause a Confusion of Sounds, else it will be most prudent
to leave out the Chords. Particular care should be taken to touch
the keys of the Instrument delicately, otherwise the Accompany-
ment of the Drum would be as grateful as that of the Harpsichord.
He who accompanies should by no means play the Part of the
Person who Sings or Plays, unless with an intention to instruct
or affront him.
Those directions, though brief, are a touchstone with which to judge

later ' realisations.' Applied to some of the nineteenth century they
are an indictment. On the other hand, by their aid, some reasons
for the effectiveness of Kreisler's arrangements become apparent, and
they raise warm admiration for the work of Respighi, Malipiero, and
Mario Corti in their recent arrangements of Italian violin music.
The edition containing the work of the latter is difficult to get, but
the sonatas for which Respighi is responsible are easily available in
Ricordi's edition. They are models of their kind. Personally, I long
to hear some violinist reintroduce to the public the charming
Pastorale Sonata of Tartini, with its altered tuning (Scordatura) and
its ingenuous melodies.
Scordatura required:
Ax.12.
This altered tuning need not be troublesome once in a way. It would

be quite a different matter from the uncompromising return to complete
original conditions advocated by some specialists. Under certain
circumstances that return might be possible, but in the va et vient
of ordinary professional work, no player could be expected to make
the changes of adjustment and pitch required. A man who may have
to play Ravel five minutes after he has finished Corelli cannot afford
to upset his hand and instrument in that way. Antiquarian conditions
mould only the letter, not the spirit. As to the manner in which a
violinist should perform these solo sonatas, a considerable difference
of opinion exists. For some time there was a view (it probably dated
from Baillot) that the chief distinction between the old and modern
style of violin playing was ' the absence of the dramatic element in
the former, and its predominance in the latter.' That may have been
true as far as the gentle Corelli was concerned-Corelli, whom Handel
describes as liking ' nothing better than seeing pictures without
paying for it '-but that it was true of Tartini, Locatelli, Nardini,

and Handel himself is unbelievable. Tartini, with his violently
dramatic love story; Locatelli, with his intense sense of his own
personality; Nardini, with his ineffably expressive playing which drew
tears from the eyes of all ranks of courtiers; and Handel the
passionate, who fought a duel with Mattheson, and threatened to
throw Cuzzoni out of the window. It is sheer folly to suppose that
the compositions and playing of such men could be devoid of the
dramatic element. Madame Landowska, in her book, Musique
ancienne, goes to the root of the matter when she says, ' II doit entrer
dans toutes les idees du compositeur pour sentir et rendre le feu de
l'expression et toutes les finesses des details.'
On the technical side there is more to be considered than appears
at first sight. A violinist may be equipped point-device with modern
technique, but if he plays these solo sonatas without regard to the
technique in use at the time they were written he will fail to get the
best results. It is quite usual to hear even good players fall
upon a sonata by Corelli or Tartini with a type of bowing which they
fondly believe belongs to old music, but which is more like an appanage
of the roast beef of old England, or a ' bright and hearty ' service on
the sands. Coupled with this bowing, they employ the frequent
shifts and high positions of the left hand common in contemporary
fiddling. This is as reasonable as Lamb going away early to make
up for coming late. While it would be injudicious to renounce all
modern freedom-indeed, this freedom is an aid to finesse-it is wise
to borrow something of the old, simpler style of fingering. The great
Italian violinists were less afraid of using open strings than we are.
As far as one can judge, they aimed at broad free tone effects, rather
than the closer-grained tone obtained by constant playing in the
higher positions. Geminiani's own fingering is very instructive and
very unexpected. That they could play perfectly well in the higher
positions if they wished is proved by Tartini's advice to a pupil to
take a piece and play it all through in the half-shift, then later all
in the second position, and so on up the positions in turn.
As for the bowing which should match this style of fingering two
hints may be given. ' The tone of the violin principally depends upon
the right management of the bow,' said Geminiani. ' Your first
study, therefore, should be the true manner of holding, balancing and
pressing the bow lightly but steadily upon the strings in such manner
as that it shall seem to breathe the first tone it gives, which must
proceed from the friction of the string, and not from percussion, as
by a blow given with a hammer upon it,' wrote Tartini.
Lastly, there is a matter which players of to-day take very lightly
but which the great Italian violinists took extremely seriously, viz.,
the ornaments or graces. It is only once in a blue moon that one

hears these ornaments played in a way that beautifies the music.
More frequently they are mere apologetic knots in the musical line.
On the harpsichord Mrs. Gordon Woodhouse and Madame Landowska
have shown what exquisite charm these ' graces ' caii impart. Every
now and then when a great violinist performs them on the violin
hearers are equally enchanted, without perhaps quite realising what
imparts this old world elegance. Harpsichordists have most ornaments
at command, but violinists have the right to fourteen. These
'Fourteen Ornaments of Expression ' are given by Geminiani as
necessary to playing in good taste. They include 'A Plain Shake,'
'A Turned Shake,' 'A Superior Apogiatura ' (supposed to express
love, affection, pleasure, etc.), and other familiar and unfamiliar
graces. Some are so rooted in the texture of violin playing that
at first one thinks of them with surprise and incredulity as ornaments.
The seventh and eighth of the set, ' Swelling and Diminishing upon
a Note,' seem like an ordinary crescendo and diminuendo. But there
is a wealth of history behind the modest marks. Violin music here
borrows a characteristic feat from the vocalisation of the singers of
the eighteenth century. To hold and swell a note of ' extraordinary
length, purity and volume ' was one of Farinelli's most famous feats-
Farinelli, whose singing extracted from an admirer the astounding
cry of ' One God, one Farinelli.' Without going to any length of
exaggeratiori, one may feel sure that the long notes which the solo
sonatas frequently introduce were intended for some such treat-
ment. It would be undesirable to prolong them in a manner that
upsets the rhythm, but to play them with expression is surely
desirable. Both Tartini and Geminiani particularly enjoin ' swelling
or increasing and softening the sound ' as one of the principal beauties
of the violin. An attempt to understand the intention of the graces
can be made to yield fresh light on the whole field of interpretation
in solo sonatas.
These works of the old composers are human documents as truly
as any written to-day. But, as with Tartini's cipher, the key to
understand them is given only to those who love them.
MARION M. SCOTT.

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Solo Violin Sonatas: Some Observations upon Their past and upon Their Performance

Author(s): Marion M. Scott

THAT SO small a thing as the violin should have established so great

'An instrument which is almost sacred thr

evolution of the solo sonatas. Who know

Geminiani, Porpora, and several others, forming a galaxy of genius.

IUSDNr(onSot SoVia; $on&a

Exs AUak,o a" M

The final examples are from a Sonata in D minor by Henry Eccl

and the senses of expectation and completion. But so little do modern

As a counterblast, it may be urged that many short pieces of the

Example 11 shows what a nineteenth century violinist made of the

With Respect to the Thorough Bass on the Harpsichord it has

Those directions, though brief, are a touchstone with which to judge

This altered tuning need not be troublesome once in a way. It would

paying for it '-but that it was true of Tartini, Locatelli, Nardini,

the ornaments or graces. It is only once in a blue moon that one

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